


throw your arms around me in the cold dark night

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Nightmares, Pre-Series, Robb Stark is a Gift, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Love, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7594978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>four times Jon shared Robb's bed, one when Robb wasn't there and one when someone else was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	throw your arms around me in the cold dark night

**Author's Note:**

> An anon on tumblr wanted _a fic of all the times Jon was scared and sad and went to sleep in Robb's bed and they talked all night and one time Robb wasnt there anymore? Bonus if your throw in some Theon and he and Jon talk about how great Robb was_ , and who am I to say no to such delicious gen. *cries* ( ~~yes, I'm doing a mass-repost this week~~ ) Hopefully it's not too sad by the end of it.
> 
> As usual: nothing belongs to me the characters first and foremost, the title is from Bruce Springsteen, I hate everything canon chooses to be when I have to be compliant to it.

5. 

 

Robb _did_  ask his mother, once, why whenever she came into his and Jon’s room before they were supposed to go to sleep she never took much notice of his brother.

(Or better, why she seems to behave as if he’s not there.)

She had given him a _look_ , said that one day he’d understand and made it clear that it was the end of the conversation. Robb hadn’t pressed - he loves his mother, he _does_ , and it pains him that she doesn’t seem to like Jon even if Robb still doesn’t understand _why_  it matters that _he_  doesn’t have a mother, too. So he resigned himself to never knowing.

Except that now she’s just left after bidding him good-night and closing the door softly behind her - Robb can feel the ghost of the kiss she left on his temple - and the room is shrouded in darkness, and he’s almost on the verge of sleep when he hears  _something_  coming from the other side of the room.

Scratch _something_ , it’s definitely crying, even if not so loud - either Jon is doing it against the pillow or he’s _that_  quiet, or both.

“Jon?” He asks, trying to keep his voice low. They probably shouldn’t be heard.

He doesn’t receive an answer.

“Jon, I _can_  hear you.”

“Sorry,” Jon says. That was not what Robb had been hoping to hear.

“That’s not -” _He_  should be the one apologizing, probably, but he has a feeling it’s just not _it_. Then -

“Get over here.”

“What?”

“Come here.”

“No, it’s fine.” Sure, and he wasn’t _crying_  when he said it.

Robb gets out of his bed, moves over to Jon’s and puts a hand on his shoulder - at that, he _has_  to move his head up from the pillow. There’s not much moonlight to go by but he’s obvious that Jon’s eyes are wet.

“If you don’t, I’m getting in there.”

“Robb -”

“Your choice,” Robb says, and when Jon sits up a bit he takes the chance for what it is - he grabs at Jon’s hand and drags him out of his covers and beneath his own. Good thing that his bed is larger and that for being five Jon is a bit on the small side.

“ _I_ ’m sorry,” he says as he brings Jon closer, his face buried in Robb’s neck. “I asked her, but -”

“I don’t want her to _pretend_ if she hates me,” Jon says, so matter of fact that Robb doesn’t even know what to say at that.

“She - she doesn’t _hate_  you.” Not that it was very convincing. “And even if she does, Father doesn’t. And _I_  don’t, all right?”

Then he decides that he might as well go for it and he presses a kiss to Jon’s forehead the way _his_  mother had done first. “You can stay here tonight if you want,” he says quietly after that.

“Really?”

“Sure. Whenever you want.”

He thinks he can feel Jon smiling a bit against his neck. Good.

 

4. 

 

He’s woken up by serious screams coming from the other side of the room - Robb barely has time to even register his brother pretty much howling his lungs out before it’s over, most likely because Jon must have snapped awake as well, but that was _terrifying_. For a moment he can’t bring _himself_  to move because it sounded really _bad_ , and what on earth would upset Jon that much?

A moment later, he hears rustling of blankets.

“Robb?” That was definitely Jon - the room is _dark_  and he can barely make his shape out, but that was audible.

“I’m awake.”

“Can - can I -”

“Yes,” Robb answers at once, lifting the covers, and Jon is pressing up against him a moment later, his entire body shaking. Gods, _what was that even about_?

“Hey,” he says, running a hand over Jon’s back, trying to see if it can help some. “It - whatever it was, it wasn’t real.”

“I - there was fire,” Jon sniffs, obviously trying not to break down in tears. “I don’t know where it came from but there was  _fire_  everywhere, and I had a sword but it was _heavy_ , and then I was going around Winterfell trying to find Father and you and Sansa and I couldn’t see you _everywhere_  and then it caught my arm and it  _hurt_  but it wasn’t killing me and I heard someone say I should let it burn because it wasn’t where I -”

“Jon. _Jon_. It wasn’t real, all right?”

“But it _felt_  -”

“Sh. Maybe it did, but it _wasn’t_. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, all right?”

“All - all right. Gods, I’m sorry, you can go back to sleep if -”

Robb shakes his head. “I think I don’t feel like it. But Luwin left that book about Daeron Targaryen around here, want me to read it?”

“If you _really_  don’t want to go back to sleep -”

Robb rolls his eyes, ruffles Jon’s hair a moment figuring that it can’t get more tangled than it already is and then gets up to find a candle.

 

3. 

 

“Is there anything wrong?” Robb only asks because Jon’s rarely this  _sullen_ , and for being nine he does it too much already if you ask for his humble opinion.

Jon looks at him from the other bed, then shrugs. “Yes. I mean, no, there isn’t anything -”

“Jon, come on, one can see it miles away. _Theon_  was wondering what was wrong with you before. You can tell me, you know that?”

“It’s stupid.”

“Fine, wouldn’t be the first time.”

Jon _does_  laugh at that, a bit, and then Robb raises up his covers.

“Robb, we’re -”

“Who cares?”

Jon _does_  roll his eyes a moment, but then he stands up and crawls under Robb’s covers, his head falling against Robb’s pillow while Robb keeps on sitting up.

“So, what’s _stupid_  according to you?”

Jon shrugs. “I passed by Arya’s room yesterday.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And, uh, your mother. She was singing to her. And I just - I thought, I don’t know who even _mine_  is, I mean my mother, Father just won’t say when I ask, and maybe she died or she just didn’t want me, I don’t _know_ , but I just wondered if she - never mind. I told you it was stupid.”

It’s really _not_ , Robb thinks instead. He remembers that custom fairly well, even if he has refused it for years by now since he felt like he was too old for it. But his mother does that for Arya and Bran, and Sansa does it for Bran as well because Arya won’t hear it from _her_ , and their lord father isn’t exactly the kind of person who’d sneak into their rooms to perform that specific task. But that’s not what is making him want to go find father and just have him _tell_  Jon who’s his mother already - that _maybe she just didn’t want me_  isn’t - Jon shouldn’t be thinking _that_.

But he doubts it’s going to work out if he actually says any of this out loud.

So - well. Maybe he should just go for the next best thing.

“Do you want me to?”

“ _What_?”

“Sing. I mean. Er. I’m not bad, but I guess the choice isn’t - I mean, there’s maybe two I could try?”

“And what would be the problem with it?”

“One is _The Bear and the Maiden Fair_ , the other is _The Dornishman’s Wife_?”

“Who even _taught_  you those two?”

“Er, Theon.”

Jon lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Don’t ever tell your mother. But - wait. Really? Come on, it’s not that -”

“Jon. Really. Do you want me to?”

“… Would you?”

Robb smirks before he blows out the candle next to his bed and settles down with Jon’s head on his shoulder. “Sure, but you pick the song.”

“Oh, uh, well, I guess maybe _The Bear and the Maiden Fair,_ that other one is damn sad, but -”

“Fine. So, uh, how was that, right, I think I have it. _A black bear, there was -_ ”

Admittedly, he forgets words here and there. Admittedly, Jon has to fill in at times. But it’s still entirely worth it - by the end they’re both laughing hysterically under the covers, Jon isn’t looking sullen anymore and Robb doesn’t tell him to go back to his own bed.

 

2. 

 

“Are you _really_  sure?” Robb asks Jon when he knocks at his door probably to bide him good-night. They haven’t been sharing a room for a few years and Robb has missed it, truth to be told. “I mean, you can always -”

“Robb, no,” Jon interrupts, moving in. “I mean, uncle Benjen’s leaving tomorrow. At this point I might just go with him. I can’t - your mother will be here and Father won’t and I can’t really stay if - it’s better than I don’t. The Watch is a honorable choice.”

“I _know_  that,” Robb sighs. “But you don’t _have_  to take it. I’ll talk to Mother, maybe -”

“Robb, no. She’s already worried about Bran, as she should be. And even if I stay - what’s in it for me? I mean, do I go off to be a hedge knight? Do I just - drag myself around with people wondering what’s even my place all of a sudden and thinking that bastards are leeches, of course? I want to do _something_  with my life. Something meaningful. I can do that at the Wall. What other choice do I have?”

He seems sad but convinced and - Robb isn’t going to take that choice from him, if that’s what he wants. “All right, but then I’ll come visit you as soon as I can. And I want you to visit, too.”

“Of course I would!”

“Well, I know the Night’s Watch oath. I wouldn’t want you to forget about us.”

“Are you _mad_? I never could - fuck you, you’re pulling my leg.”

“Perhaps,” Robb doesn’t disagree. And then he realizes that this might be the last night Jon spends in Winterfell for a long time. “And since this might be the last time I see you, maybe we should - spend it like we used to?”

“You mean -”

“You can sleep here if you want.”

He didn’t know what he expected, but not the look of… raw  _relief_  that passes over Jon’s face for a split second. Then he smiles, not much but he does. “I guess - yes, why not. Thanks, I -”

“No need to thank me.”

They don’t sleep much that night for that matter - they talk instead, and they don’t stop for a long, long time. Jon ends up passing out before Robb does, his hair spilling in a mess all over his pillow, and Robb looks down at him. “I know you’ll make us all proud but I’ll miss you,” he whispers as he lays down as well, an arm around Jon’s shoulders, and relishes in the thought that maybe after things are settled -

Maybe after Father is settled in King’s Landing and after Bran wakes up they could go visit Jon up at the Wall and finally see it for real. Bran would love it, Robb thinks. They say it’s cold but beautiful to see. It would almost be a real adventure - there’s no harm in assuming it might happen in a few months, right?

 

1.

 

Jon wakes up with cold sweat running all over his forehead and neck, his throat hoarse - gods, has he screamed himself raw? Maybe. Most probably. No one is knocking at his door, but the Lord Commander’s tower is separated from the rest of Castle Black - maybe they just didn’t hear him.

Gods, he hopes so.

His shoulders tremble as he remembers that bloody dream - he was walking around Winterfell and he was on his own, there was snow everywhere, he had his sword in hand but it was _burning_  against his palm somehow, and he was calling for everyone he knew but no one was there, and then he turned and saw Robb, his father, Bran, Rickon, Arya, Lady Stark and Sansa, looking at him with very dead eyes and blood pouring from opened wounds, saying -

 _You had no right to be the only one left, you should have looked after us, wasn’t that why you joined the Watch,_ all of them at once, and that sword had _burned_  even more -

And then he woke up, and now he’s here taking deep breaths and trying to not cry out because he can’t let himself - he’s the bloody Lord Commander, he can’t, he can’t, _he can’t_  -

Gods, he thinks he needs someone to show up and tell him he’s worrying for nothing the way Robb used to all these years ago, but he had to send Sam to Oldtown, he can’t exactly show himself in these conditions to anyone else and Robb died a long time ago. Robb died slain at a wedding because his enemies had to _violate guest right_  to take him out and - Jon bites down on his own hand, thinking that he’d sell it to have Robb show up here, put a hand on his shoulder and tell him that he’s imagining everything and that it’s not true and that he’s not completely failing at _this_ , but -

But Robb’s not here, is he?

“I miss you so much,” he blurts out under his breath, his head on his knees, and that’s when he feels a soft growl coming from his right side. Ghost is looking up at him, his eyes _sad_  as if he understands -

Jon isn’t ever going to let anyone know that he let Ghost climb on his bed and spent the night weeping at intervals into his soft white fur, and it still wasn’t _enough_ , but that’s not the point.

The point is that he can’t be the kind of person who gets this upset because they miss their brother like a limb, and he _knows_ , but - but who’s here to see him, for now?

The next day, he’s not rested and he feels exhausted. He wonders if that was how being King in the North felt like for Robb, and doesn’t dare think of a plausible answer for that question.

 

\+ 1

 

Theon is only passing in front of Snow’s - Stark’s - well, that’s not exactly - _Jon’s_ room in the dead of the night because there is no way he can go back to sleep after the nightmare he had half an hour ago. The only good thing is that he hasn’t woken Jeyne up, and he figures that if he goes to breathe some fresh air it can’t harm, can it -

Then he hears a scream that reminds him all to much of how _he_  used to sound back when he was captured first and brought to the Dreadfort.

Then he hears it _again_.

For a moment he thinks _I have no right_ , but on the other hand… Jon did look at Ramsay after securing him and then told Theon that it was _his_  if he wanted him, and that was when Jon barely owes him anything - sure, his sister is supporting his and Stannis’s cause now, and he gave them all the information he could so they could defeat Ramsay, and he seems to have at least momentarily forgiven him also given that Rickon was returned to them by Stannis’s Hand a short time before the battle.

Jon screams again.

Theon walks inside the room - it’s not locked - and goes to grab his shoulder to wake him up.

Jon does, a moment later - his eyes slam open and he seems terrified for one moment, then he notices Theon standing there and lets out a breath of relief.

“I’m sorry,” Theon says quietly, “but it didn’t sound -”

“No need for apologies.” Jon’s voice is shaking. “It was a good thing you came in. Really.”

Theon reminds himself just in time to not call him _my lord_  - Jon has told him countless times not to and maybe he shouldn’t push it. “I’m - good. But - are you all right?” It sounds like a completely surreal conversation, at this point, but what can he even ask?

Jon shrugs. “I will be,” he says eventually. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t tell Theon to leave, though. All of a sudden, Theon remembers of all the times he noticed Jon sneak into Robb’s room late at night after they stopped sharing, and he thinks of all the times Robb actually went searching for _Theon_  when he knew he wasn’t feeling fine and how sometimes he’d spend the night with him even if he didn’t ask.

“Listen, I might not have known you as much as Robb did, and - likewise, but you’re not - you’re not fine. I’d know that. Look at me.”

Jon snorts, even if there’s no mirth in it.

“Maybe I’m not, but - it’s just -”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Theon asks, cringing at how daring that was - gods, Jon is basically Stannis’s shadow king since the wildlings defer to _him_  and most northerners seem to be fine with siding with Stannis because _Jon_  is, and Theon’s here asking him -

“I always dream that I’m fighting those _Others_  with a flaming sword,” Jon blurts out. “And there’s always too many, and then I see that their faces are the face of my - former brothers in the Watch. The ones who -” he gestures at his chest, not continuing. “And then one of them is always Robb and another is Arya and they always say that _I failed them_  and I just - it’s bad. I _know_  it’s just - that it’s not real, but -”

“Jon, damn it, they wouldn’t think that.”

“What?”

“I don’t know about your sister but from what I saw she’d kill herself before assuming one _bad_  thing about you and as much as I didn’t want to accept it, Robb _did_  think the world of you and he knew you were in the Watch. At times he’d say he was thinking about sending them some one hundred men in exchange for you, that’s how much he valued you, and just - he’d have never thought you failed him. _That_ , I know.”

Jon looks at him then and something in his stare goes from pained to almost soft, and Theon wonders how his own eyes seem to someone else right now. Because he feels pained, too, but now that he said that he feels nostalgic, too.

“God, I know, he used to tell me all the time.”

“What, when you sneaked into his room?”

“How do you know?”

“He told me, but he also did the same with mine. You weren’t the only one who slept badly in Winterfell.”

“Fuck,” Jon chokes, “he really - was _something_ , wasn’t he?”

“I know,” Theon says, quietly. “And I wish I had stayed with him all along, but what can I do about it now?”

“I don’t know, but for what it’s worth I think he’s not too disappointed in you, either.”

They look at each other for a long moment, and when Jon moves a bit away Theon doesn’t think before lying down on the bed gingerly, trying not to think about the constant pain in his feet. He doesn’t know where they go from here truth to be told, but then Jon’s shoulders shake a bit all over again and he doesn’t shrug Theon away when he puts a hand over Jon’s wrist - his own was lying over the pillows.

“Do you know he ended up singing _The Bear and the Maiden Fair_ to me once because I was brooding over lady Catelyn never doing it for me and he said _you_  taught him that?”

Theon can’t help it - he laughs, unable to keep it in, and if Jon sees his fake teeth, patience. “I did,” he admits. “I thought it’d be hilarious. But hey, he enjoyed learning it, all right? Why, you want me to teach it to you _now_? Because I’m not even sure I remember it.”

“Me neither. But then again if neither of us is sleeping, we have time to kill, don’t we?”

Turns out, neither of them remembers all of it, and by the time they went through it they’re laughing hard enough that they’re both crying and agreeing that Robb was a better singer than either of them, but Jon doesn’t seem overtly sad anymore and he’s not thinking about how disturbed he had felt when he left his room before.

All things considered, he thinks they’ll be better for it in the morning.

 

End.


End file.
